


Chocolate

by SeverinadeStrango



Category: Sengoku Basara, 学園BASARA | Gakuen Basara | Gakuen Basara: Samurai High School (Anime)
Genre: Akechi Mitsuhide is His Own Warning, Burning, Doctor Akechi Mitsuhide, Erotic Undertones, Food Play, Foreplay, Headmaster Oda Nobunaga, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, S&M, Submission, Temperature Play, high school setting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2018-12-06
Packaged: 2019-09-13 04:47:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16885881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeverinadeStrango/pseuds/SeverinadeStrango
Summary: Some people have unusual tastes.





	Chocolate

“Did you get what I sent you for, Doctor?” The headmaster remained facing the wall, not even bothering to turn around as Akechi softly closed – and latched – the door behind him. Akechi didn’t answer – the bastard just laughed, as he always did – but Oda didn’t need a verbal answer to tell him that he’d indeed succeeded. Mitsuhide was too proud to let himself fail a task given to him by the Devil King, especially when said King had such a tight hold over him in all the most discreet ways.

“Come here,” said Oda, sitting down heavily in the chair behind his desk. Akechi, predictable as ever when he was within these walls, slid right on over, swinging his legs over the desk until he was perched facing the Headmaster, his feet resting on either of the armrests. And then, just as he always did – “speak of your work.”

Mitsuhide had come prepared. Without any further hesitation he reached into one of the pockets of his white coat and retrieved the little notebook that Nobunaga had originally given to his sister. Clearly, she was unable to complete her task – they both had known it from the start, this only served to solidify the point, and thus Akechi had taken it upon himself to tie up what loose ends remained.

“I trust this will be to your _satisfaction,_ Headmaster,” Mitsuhide all but purred, and Oda likened him very much to a cat, perched there prim and proud and openly ambitious. Oh, he knew what he wanted. Nobunaga pushed himself back a little so that there was space between himself and the edge of the desk, just enough to allow a person to kneel without contorting too uncomfortably, and Mitsuhide slid down, sitting gracefully on his heels as if he was made of liquid. At this point Oda wouldn’t have been surprised if he _was._

After a moment or two of lingering eye contact during which neither of them spoke, each of them trying to read the other, MItsuhide seemed to come to an abrupt conclusion and reached forward for the buttons of the Headmaster’s trousers, only for his hands to be roughly slapped away. He gasped at the sting – _oh sweet oh yes_ – but ultimately, his confusion remained. Was this not what the Headmaster wished for? Was his own work not satisfactory enough to warrant a reward? 

It seemed that neither of those two had been correct guesses, however.

“Take off your clothes.” Nobunaga’s eyes remained unyielding, and, unable to make any further progress on that front, Mitsuhide raised himself up a little and methodically stripped, folding his coat and shirt and trousers neatly into a pile that was then tucked out of the way. Regardless of his _fixations,_ he was still a doctor – and possessed all the meticulousness that was required of one in such a prestigious position. Now remaining in his socks and the intricate leather harness that ran up and down his entire body, each segment connected with lengths of silver chain, Akechi sat back on his heels, looking up expectantly. 

That still was not enough, however, and he wanted to _scream_ in frustration when Nobunaga told him to close his eyes. That was it. No rough yanks on his hair, no harsh snaps, nothing, and it was with reluctance that he complied, now completely lost as to what could possibly be coming next. 

Oda looked down at the man before him and smirked, chuckling low in his throat as he now raised his gaze to his desk, where the Styrofoam cup filled with hot chocolate rested, currently untouched. Itsuki had stopped by while he was out of the office, clearly – even she wouldn’t have dared to come in while he was busy at work, whatever _that_ might have meant at the time. He’d never had much of a sweet tooth and had planned to dump the drink and then dispose of the cup, but _now –_

Oh, _here_ was an idea. He lifted the cup and brought it closer. It was still steaming, and he knew how Itsuki made his coffee, when she dared to try – as scalding as fire itself, just the way he liked it. Oda waited a second longer, and then upended the cup over Mitsuhide’s head. 

_“Haaaaah-!”_

The noise that had come out of him was some twisted, terrible screech halfway between a laugh and a scream, and he flinched continuously, little spasms jerking him this way and that as the hot liquid ran in rivulets down his hair, his skin, and only now did Akechi see just _why_ Oda had ordered him to strip. He had to commend the Headmaster for his forward thinking, at the very least, even _though_ it was – 

“Hot,” gasped Mitsuhide, reaching out and grasping handfuls of the legs of Nobunaga’s pants, “it burns, it _burns,_ sir –“ He swiped his tongue out and lapped at what remained around his mouth and lips, “burns so _good…!”_

“You have done well, Mitsuhide,” Oda drawled, dropping the cup onto the ground and leaning back in his chair. That was the good Doctor’s reward taken care of – but judging by what he saw while quickly glancing downwards at his own pants, and the flush that was slowly taking over Mitsuhide’s entire face (as well as the man’s squirming – he knew _better_ than to touch without permission), that wasn’t their only problem.

“Open your eyes,” commanded Oda, “and come here. You’re absolutely filthy, Doctor.”

Mitsuhide’s eyes lit up.

“I suppose some cleaning will be in order, sir?”

Oda smiled. Clever Akechi, clever.

“Indeed.” He crooked a finger, beckoning Akechi closer. “Now, let us not waste any more time.”


End file.
